Chapter 9
Sive stood on the stage of Halfpenny Lane the next morning, watching as Sam and Cara rolled a grand piano into the wings, while a crew of stagehands and carpenters dismantled scenery, overseen by the set designer.
The place was a hive of activity, Cara issuing instructions to a team of volunteers who were bustling about collecting props and removing set decoration.
Piece by piece Amanda’s Paris flat from Act Three of Private Lives was stripped bare as curtains were taken down and furniture removed.
All traces of Amanda and Ellyot were gradually vanishing and soon nothing of the life they’d lived here would remain – just as Mimi’s presence was disappearing from their house, piece by piece. A wave of melancholy washed over Sive as she looked around at the almost bare stage.
‘Are you okay?’
She startled and looked up to see Sam beside her, a concerned frown furrowing his brow.
‘Yes,’ she said, shaking herself. ‘Just feeling a bit … sad?’ She gave him a wry smile.
‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.
’ As she said it, the words nudged something that had been niggling in the back of her mind since last night – a fleeting, nebulous thought that had flashed across her brain, lost in the excitement of the moment before she could latch onto it.
She had a vague feeling there was something she should be worrying about, something triggered by Mimi’s engagement announcement, but she couldn’t think what it could be – which obviously meant she should let it go.
What was the point in trying to think of things to worry about?
It couldn’t be that important anyway, if she wasn’t able to fix on it.
‘There’s something so forlorn about an empty stage, isn’t there?’ she said to Sam.
‘Never mind. Soon it’ll be all decked out again and we’ll be dancing together at the Fezziwiggs’ Christmas party.’
‘Sam, help me with this?’ Cara called, picking up one end of a green velvet chaise.
As Sam jogged over to Cara, Sive made her way to the wings. The backstage area was equally busy, the tech crew dismantling lighting rigs, while more stagehands packed props and furniture for storage.
Sam was right, she thought, as she went through the dressing rooms, gathering all the Private Lives costumes.
The end of one show was just the beginning of another.
It was nothing to be upset about. She piled clothes into laundry baskets, and filled storage bins with shoes, bags and hats.
Then she sat at one of the dressing tables and spent the rest of the afternoon sorting through everything, inspecting costumes for damage and setting aside those that needed repair.
The rest she put aside to bring home for cleaning and sanitising.
Finally, she sorted through the jewellery and other accessories, making an inventory of everything before storing them away neatly.
The quiet, methodical work calmed her, and she felt more cheerful by the time Jonathan came to collect her and Sam.
They loaded laundry baskets and storage bins into the boot, then he drove them home, where Aoife had prepared dinner.
While Rocco helped Sam and Jonathan unload the boxes from the car, Sive found Aoife and Mimi in the kitchen taking dishes out of the oven.
The room was warm and steamy, filled with instantly comforting food aromas.
‘How did the strike go?’ Mimi asked, lifting the lid on a chicken and mushroom casserole while Aoife placed a large dish of gratin potatoes on the table.
‘Fine.’ Sive said as everyone took their seats and began helping themselves. ‘It was very efficient.’
‘Are you okay?’ Mimi frowned at her in concern and she realised how flat she’d sounded.
‘Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit tired.’ Sive shrugged. ‘I can’t believe you two are getting married,’ she said brightly, tilting her chin at the rock on Mimi’s ring finger, keen to deflect attention from herself.
‘Me either.’ Mimi grinned.
‘When are you planning to do it?’ Aoife asked.
‘We haven’t made any concrete plans yet, but as soon as we can organise it – hopefully after the run of A Christmas Carol and before Rocco starts filming.’ Rocco had been signed to a movie that would start shooting on location in the spring.
‘Then Mimi could come to Vancouver with me before filming starts and we could make a honeymoon of it,’ Rocco said.
‘Oh, that’d be lovely.’
‘It’s such a gorgeous ring,’ Aoife said, looking at Mimi’s hand. ‘I presume you chose it yourself?’
‘No, Rocco picked it out.’ Mimi beamed at him proudly. ‘It was a complete surprise.’
‘Wow! Well done, Rocco,’ Sive said. It was so perfect for Mimi – so exactly her style.
‘That was brave,’ Sam said. ‘When I got engaged to Sophie, we went shopping for the ring with her mother and her best friend. My only input was handing over my credit card.’
‘That should have been your first clue,’ Jonathan said to him with a wry smile.
Mimi shrugged happily. ‘Luckily Rocco knows me well.’
‘And he’s got excellent taste,’ Sive said, smiling at him. Not to mention plenty of money – that ring must have cost a fortune.
‘Do you know what kind of wedding you’re going to have?’ Aoife asked.
‘And what you’re going to wear?’ Sive added.
‘Steady on.’ Mimi laughed. ‘We’ve only just got engaged. But we definitely want to keep it small – well, as small as Rocco’s family will allow.’
Rocco had a large extended family, and it gave Sive a pang, thinking how scanty Mimi’s side would be in comparison.
‘So just you lot, Rocco’s lot and a few of our closest friends. Small but exquisite – that’s the theme.’
‘And private,’ Rocco said. ‘We’ll keep the details hush-hush until it’s over. We’ll probably have to release a couple of official photos to the press, but that’ll be it.’
Sive tended to forget that Rocco was such a high profile celebrity. To her he was just Rocco, someone she’d known for years, long before he became famous. It was strange to think there were so many strangers out there in the world who felt they knew him and had some claim on him.
‘You two will be bridesmaids, naturally,’ Mimi said, nodding to her sisters.
‘Yay!’ Sive beamed and clapped her hands excitedly.
‘And we’ll all be wearing vintage.’
‘Of course,’ Sive said. ‘It’s a pity Detta never got married.
She’d be sure to have had a fabulous wedding dress and you could have worn it.
’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Sive realised how foolish they sounded.
Mimi was marrying a major movie star and Rocco was loaded.
She was probably thinking more along the lines of vintage Balmain or Chanel, not hand-me-downs from her great-aunt.
‘Oh, that would have been brilliant!’ Mimi said with real regret.
‘Do you have an idea of the style you’d like?’ Sive asked.
‘I have a few – thirties maybe or fifties. But I’d love genuine vintage, not just vintage-style.’
‘It’s probably going to be hard to find, then. You’d better start looking as soon as possible. I could help?’
‘You can be in charge of wardrobe, if you’d like,’ Mimi said, giving Sive a curious look. Could she tell she was feeling fragile and out of sorts? Sive hoped not. She hated to cause her sisters any concern. Anyway, it was just a passing mood, and she’d shake it off soon enough.
‘Ooh, I’d love to.’
‘I think Mum’s wedding dress is still up in the attic,’ Aoife said, her lips twitching. ‘You could wear that.’
‘You do love eighties fashion,’ Sive said with a mischievous smile.
‘Does it count as vintage, though?’ Mimi asked. ‘Anyway, it’s not quite the style I was thinking of. I mean, I’m sure it was bang on trend at the time…’
‘But the eighties weren’t kind to brides,’ Sive nodded sympathetically.
Aoife laughed. ‘I’m only joking. No one would expect you to wear that monstrosity – not even Mum.’
They fell silent for a moment, as if their light-hearted chatter had snagged on the same thought – that their mother wouldn’t be there to see get Mimi get married; their father wouldn’t get to walk her down the aisle …
Sive’s eyes drifted to the framed photo on the sideboard of their parents on their wedding day.
They looked so young, so happy, standing outside the church smiling for the camera, a breeze lifting their mother’s veil so it streamed out behind her.
Her dress was a typical poofy eighties style, likely inspired by Princess Diana’s iconic gown.
It was truly hideous … and yet her mother was the most beautiful bride Sive had ever seen.
‘It really is awful, isn’t it?’ she said, blinking tears from her eyes.
‘Horrible,’ Mimi agreed.
‘But she looks so lovely,’ Aoife said, echoing Sive’s thoughts. Jonathan put a hand over hers on the table, clasping it, and Rocco put an arm around Mimi’s shoulders consolingly.
‘Oh, what about granny’s dress, though?’ Sive leapt up as she had a spark of inspiration and went over to the sideboard. She took a box of old photographs from the cupboard and rummaged through it until she found the one she wanted.
‘It’s genuine fifties and the style would really suit you,’ she said, passing the photo to Mimi as she sat back down.
It was a black and white image of their maternal grandmother on her wedding day.
Her dress was ballerina-style with a sweetheart neckline, a nipped-in waist and a full tea-length skirt.
‘It’d be perfect!’ Mimi smiled. ‘Do we still have it, though?’
‘It’s probably in the attic,’ Aoife said, frowning. ‘If it survived our manhandling,’ she added with a wry smile. As children, it had been part of their dressing-up box, along with several of their mother’s old cocktail dresses.
‘Gosh, granny was tiny, though, wasn’t she? It was an okay fit when I was nine or ten, but I doubt it’d go near me now.’
‘I could alter it,’ Sive said. ‘If you’d like to wear it, that is. It’s just an idea.’
‘No, it’s exactly the sort of thing I had in mind. Plus it has sentimental value. I’d love to wear it.’ Mimi smiled down at the photograph.
‘And I could customise it any way you like – if you wanted to change the sleeves or the neckline or add beading or whatever.’
‘That would be great. But only if you wouldn’t mind?’ Mimi raised her eyebrows at Sive.
‘Are you kidding? You know how much I love an upcycling project.’
‘Don’t get too attached to the idea yet,’ Aoife said. ‘We have to see if we still have it first.’
‘I’ll go up to the attic tomorrow and have a root for it,’ Sive said.
‘Why not wait until we can all do it together?’ Mimi said. ‘How about next Saturday when we’re all free? We can start early and get a good run at it.’
‘Good idea,’ Aoife said. ‘That attic is long overdue a clear-out anyway.’ They were all aware that they’d shoved a lot of stuff into the attic after their parents died to avoid the pain of sorting through it all.
Mimi nodded. ‘Who knows what else we might find up there?’
Lots of upsetting memories probably, Sive thought.
‘Why has no one asked me what I’m going to wear?’ Rocco asked, faking annoyance, and everyone laughed.
‘I refer you to our official wardrobe mistress,’ Mimi said, waving at Sive.
‘Gosh, it’s not much time to plan a wedding, though, is it?’ Sive said. ‘Don’t people usually take a year or more to organise them?’
‘Not a problem to us,’ Mimi said with a shrug. ‘After all, what’s a wedding but a piece of theatre? And we all know how to put on a show.’
The rest of the meal passed happily, and Sive lost herself in the wedding chatter, swept up in the buoyant mood.
But later when she was alone in her room, she again had that niggling feeling that she’d forgotten something – a problem she needed to focus on and solve.
If she could pinpoint whatever it was, maybe it would explain why she’d been feeling so unsettled the past couple of days – strangely sad and melancholic, with no discernible reason for it. But once again it eluded her.
She tried to put it out of her mind as she got into bed and turned out the light. It was probably just hormones. She didn’t usually suffer from PMT but—
She gasped aloud and shot bolt upright in bed, her heart pounding. That was it! She was late.